Source Pg. 3 & 4

plained that the police advised we not take the usual route because segregationists might lie in wait for us.  I looked at my watch.  It was after eight-thirty.  We'd be very late arriving - even later than I had feared.
   Central High was located on Park Street, stretching a two-block distance between Fourteenth and Sixteenth streets.  But the route we took confused my sense of direction.  I was surprised when suddenly we pulled up to the side entrance at Sixteenth Street, just beyond Park.  Amid noise and confusion, the driver urged us to get out quickly.  The white hand of a uniformed officer reached out toward the car, opening the door and pulling me toward him as his urgent voice ordered us to hurry.  The roar coming from the front of the building made me glance to my right.  Only a half block away, I saw hundreds of white people, their bodies in motion, their mouths wide open as they shouted their anger.
   "Get along," the voice beside me said.  But I couldn't move; I was frozen by what I saw and heard.  Policemen stood in front of wooden sawhorse barricades holding the people back.  The rumble of the crowd was like that at a football game when the hero runs the ball to the end zone for a touchdown - only this time, none of the voices were cheering.
"The niggers!  Keep the niggers out!"  The shouts came closer.  The roar swelled, as though their frenzy had been fired up by something.  It took a moment to digest the fact that it was the sight of us.
   Hustled along, we walked up the few concrete stairs, through the heavy double doors that led inside the school, and then up a few more stairs.  It was like entering a darkened movie theater - amid the rush of a crowd eager to get seated before the picture begins.  I was barely able to see where we were rushing to.  There were blurred images all around me as we moved up more stairs.  The sounds of footsteps, ugly words, insulting shouts, and whispered commands formed an echoing clamor.
   "Niggers, niggers, the niggers are in."  They were talking about me.  The shouting wouldn't stop; it got louder as more joined in.
  "They're in here!  Oh, God, the niggers are in here!" one girl shouted, running ahead of us down the hallway.
   "They got in.  I smell something..."
   "You niggers better turn around and go home."
   I was racing to keep pace with a woman who shouted orders over her shoulders to us.  Nobody had yet told us she was someone we could trust, someone we should be following.  I tried to move among the angry voices, blinking, struggling, to accustom my eyes to the very dim light.  The unfamiliar surroundings reminded me of the inside of a museum - marble floors and stone walls and long winding hallways that seemed to go on forever.  It was a huge, cavernous building, the largest I'd ever been in.  Breathless, I made my legs carry me quickly past angry white faces, dodging fists that struck out at me.
   "The principal's office is this way," whispered a petite woman with dark hair and glasses.  "Hurry, no, hurry." I was walking as fast as I could.  Then we were shoved into an office where there was more light.  Directly in front of us, behind a long counter, a row of white people, mostly women, stood staring at us as though we were the world's eighth wonder.
   In the daylight, I recognised Mrs. Huckaby, Central High's vice-principal for girls, who had been present at several of our earlier meetings with the school board.
   "This is Jess Matthews, the principal," she said.  "You remember him."
   No, I didn't remember.  He peered at us with an acknowledging frown and nod, then quickly walked away.
   "Here are your class schedules and homeroom assignments.  Wait for your guides," Mrs. Huckaby said.
   That's when I noticed that just beyond the glass panels in the upper part of the door that led to the office clusters of students stood glaring at us.  One boy opened the door and walked in, yelling, "You're not gonna let those niggers stay in here, are you?"
   All at once, Thelma Mothershed slumped down on the wooden bench just inside the door of the office.  Mrs. Huckaby hustled the boy out and turned her attention to Thelma, as we

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